A Loyal Character Dancer

by a snapshot of her taken at the Shanghai Railway Station: Wen danced with a red paper heart bearing a Chinese character— loyal —in her hand. A long, graceful neck, terrific legs, strands of her black hair curled against her cheek, and a red armband on her green sleeve. She was in the center of a group of educated youths, her almond-shaped eyes squinting in the sunlight, with people beating drums and gongs in a sea of red banners in the background. Underneath the picture was a caption: Educated Youth Wen Liping, graduate of the class of ‘70, the Great Leap Forward High School. The picture had appeared in Wenhui Daily in the early seventies, when high-school graduates from cities, the “educated youths,” were sent to the countryside in response to Chairman Mao’s declaration: It is necessary for the educated youths to receive reeducation from the poor and lower-middle-class peasants.
     
    Wen went to Changle Village in Fujian Province, as a “relative-seeking” educated youth. Soon afterward—in less than a year—she had married Feng Dexiang, a man fifteen years her senior, the head of the Revolutionary Committee of the Changle People’s Commune. There were different explanations for the marriage. Some described her as a too ardent believer in Mao, but others claimed pregnancy was the cause. She had a baby the following year. With her newborn infant bundled on her back, in sweat-soaked black homespun, laboring barefoot in the rice paddies, few would have recognized her as an educated youth from Shanghai. In the following years, she returned to Shanghai only once—on the occasion of her father’s funeral. After the Cultural Revolution, Feng was removed from his position. In addition to her toil in the rice paddy and vegetable plots, Wen started working in a commune factory to support the family. Then their only son died in a tragic accident. Several months ago, Feng had left on board The Golden Hope.
     
    Little wonder, Chen observed, that her passport picture looked so different from those in her high-school file.
     
    The flower falls, the water flows, and the spring fades, / It’s a changed world.
     
    Twenty years gone in a snap of one’s fingers, Wen had graduated from high school just two or three years earlier than he. Chief Inspector Chen thought now that he had comparatively little to complain about in his life, despite this absurd assignment.
     
    He glanced at his watch. Still some time before the airplane arrived. At a phone booth, he dialed Qian Jun at the bureau. “Has Detective Yu called in?”
     
    “No, not yet.”
     
    “The flight is delayed. I have to wait for the American and then accompany her to the hotel. I don’t think I will make it back to the bureau this afternoon. If Yu calls, tell him to reach me at home. And see if you can also speed up the report on the autopsy of the body in the park.”
     
    “I will try my best, Chief Inspector Chen,” Qian said. “So you’re conducting that investigation now.”
     
    “Yes, a murder victim found in Bund Park is another political priority for us.”
     
    “Of course, Chief Inspector Chen.”
     
    Then he telephoned Peiqin, Detective Yu’s wife.
     
    “Peiqin, this is Chen Cao. I’m at the airport. Sorry about sending Yu away on such short notice.”
     
    “You don’t have to apologize, Chief Inspector Chen.”
     
    “Has he called home?”
     
    “No, not yet. He will call you first, I bet.”
     
    “He must have arrived safe and sound. Don’t worry. I’ll probably hear from him tonight.”
     
    “Thank you.”
     
    “Take care, Peiqin. Give my best to Qinqin and Old Hunter.”
     
    “I will. Take care of yourself.”
     
    He wished that he could be with Yu, discussing hypotheses with his usual partner, even though Yu was not enthusiastic about taking on the Wen case—even less so than he was about the Bund Park case. Though the two men differed in almost every way, they were friends. He had made several visits to Yu’s home and enjoyed himself there, despite the fact that the entire apartment consisted of a room no more than ten or eleven square meters in size, where Yu, his wife and son, slept, ate and lived, next to the room which was his father’s home. Yu was a warm host who played a good game of go, and Peiqin was a wonderful hostess, serving excellent food and discussing classical Chinese literature, too.
     
    Regaining his seat in the corner, he decided to do some reading about human smuggling in